That inward breaks, and fhews no caufe without
Why the man dies. 1 humbly thank you, Sir.
Capt. God b'w' ye, Sir.

Ref. Will't pleafe you go, my Lord?

Ham. I'll be with you ftrait, go a little before. [Exe. Manet Hamlet.

"How all occafions do inform against me, "And fpur my dull revenge? What is a man, "If his chief good and market of his time "Be but to fleep and feed? a beat, no more. "Sure, he that made us with fuch large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not "That capability and god-like reafon "To ruft in us unus'd. Now, whether it be "Beftial oblivion, or fome craven fcruple

"Of thinking too precifely on th' event,

(A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wiidom,

"And ever three parts coward), I do not know Why yet I live to fay this thing's to do;

"Sith I have caufe, and will, and ftrength, and means
"To do't. Examples, grois as earth, exhort me;
"Witness this army of fuch mafs and charge,

"Led by a delicate and tender prince,
"Whofe fpirit, with divine ambition puft,
"Makes mouths at the invisible event;

Expofing what is mortal and unfure

"To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
"Ev'n for an egg-fhell. 'Tis not to be great,
Never to ftir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a ftraw,
When honour's at the stake. How ftand I then,
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain’d,
(Excitements of my reafon and my blood),
And let all fleep? while, to my fhame, I fee
The imminent death of twenty thoufand men ;
That for a phantafy and trick of fame
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot,
Whereon the numbers cannot try the caufe,
Which is not tomb enough and continent

Το

To hide the flain? O then, from this time forth,
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! [ Exit.

SCENE V. Changes to a palace.

Enter Queen, Horatio, and a Gentleman.
Queen. I will not speak with her.
Gent. She is importunate,

Indeed, distract; her mood will needs be pitied.
Queen. What would he have?

Gent. She speaks much of her father; fays, she hears, There's tricks i' th' world; and hems, and beats her

heart;

Spurns enviously at ftraws; fpeaks things in doubt, That carry but half fenfe: her fpeech is nothing, Yet the unfhaped ufe of it doth move

The hearers to collection; they aim at it,

And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and geftures yield them, Indeed would make one think, there might be thought; Tho' nothing fure, yet much unhappily.

Hor. 'Twere good fhe were spoken with, for fhe may Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. [ftrow Let her come in..

Queen. To my fick foul, as fin's true nature is,
Each toy feems prologue to fome great amifs;
So full of artlefs jealoufy is guilt,

It fpills itself, in fearing to be spilt.

Enter Ophelia difiracted.

Cph. Where is the beauteous Majefty of Denmark? Queen. How now, Ophelia ?

Oph. How Should I your true love know from another one?

By his cockle hat and fiaf, and his fandal fhoon. [Singing.
Queen. Alas, fweet Lady'; what imports this fong?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

He's dead and gone, Lady, he's dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf, at his heels a ftone.

Enter

Enter King.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia

Oph. Pray you, mark.

White the Shroud as the mountain-fnow.
Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.

Oph. Larded all with fweet flowers ;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true love flowers.

King. How do ye, pretty Lady?

Oph. Well, God yield you! They fay, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table ! King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, fay you this:

To-morrow is St. Valentine's day, all in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, to be your Valentine. Then up be rofe, and don'd his cloaths, and dept the chamber-door;

Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed moré.

King Pretty Ophelia !

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end on't.

By Gis, and by S. Charity,

Alack, and fie for fhame!

Young men will do't, if they come te't,-
By cock, they are to blame.

Qusth fhe, before you tumbled me,

You promis'd me to wed:

So would I ba' done, by yonder fun,

And thou had not come to my bed.

King. How long has he been thus ?

Oph I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot chufe but weep, to think, they fhould Jay him i' th' cold ground; my brother fhall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good counsel Come, my coach; good night, Ladies; good night, fweet Ladies; good night, good night.

03

[Exit.

King

King. Follow her clofe, give her good watch, I pray

you;

[Exit Horatio.

This is the poifon of deep grief; it fprings
All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude!
When forrows come, they come not fingle fpies,
But in battalions. First, her father flain;

Next your fon gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholfome in their thoughts and whispers,
For good Polonius' death; (we've done but greenly,
In private to inter him); poor Ophelia,

Divided from herfelf, and her fair judgment;
(Without the which we're pictures, or mere beats):
Laft, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in fecret come from France:
Feeds on this wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With peftilent fpeeches of his father's death;
Wherein neceffity, of matter beggar'd,
Will nothing ftick our perfons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murthering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death!

Queen. Alack! what noife is this?

[A noife within.

SCENE VI. Enter a Messenger.

King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard the

What is the matter?

Me. Save yourself, my Lord.

The ocean, overpeering of his lift,

Eats not the flats with more impetuous hafte,

Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,

[door.

O'erbears your officers; the rabble call him Lord:
And as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, cuitom not known,
The ratifiers and props of every ward;

The cry,

"Chufe we Laertes for our King." Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds; "Laertes fhall be King, Laertes King!"

Queen. How chearfully on the falfe trail they cry! Oh, this is counter, you falfe Danish dogs. [Noife within.

Enter

Enter Laertes, with a party at the door.

King. The doors are broke.

Laer. Where is this King? Sirs! stand you all with

out.

All. No, let's come in.

Laer. I pray you give me leave. `
All. We will, we will.

Laer. I thank you, keep the door.

O thou vile King, give me my father.
Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.

[Exeunt.

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims me Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot [bastard; Even here, between the chafte and unfmirch'd brow Of my true mother.

King. What is the caufe, Laertes,

That thy rebellion looks fo giant-like?

Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
There's fuch divinity doth hedge a King,

That treafon can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of its will. Tell me, Laertes,

Why are you thus incens'd? Let him

go,

Gertrude.

Speak, man.

Laer. Where is my father?

King. Dead.

Queen. But not by him.

King Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackelt devil! Confcience and grace, to the profoundest pit!

I dare damnation; to this point I ftand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come what comes; only I'll be revenge'd
Moft throughly for my father.

King Who fhall ftay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world;

And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
They fhall go far with little.

If

King. Good Laertes,

you defire to know the certainty

Of your dear father, is't writ in your revenge, (That fweep-ftake) you will draw both friend and foe,